On Saturday morning, the day of Winkler’s first Pride celebration, Erika Enns Rodine, a Mennonite pastor wearing a white T-shirt with a rainbow-coloured dove on it, prayed.
She prayed “for all the queer, trans and intersex children and youth across the globe. For the ones who are struggling with feelings of isolation and shame. For those who have no safe place or people to retreat to. For those who must be teachers to the adults in their lives. For those who are unsafe in their communities.”
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“God, hear our prayers,” answered the congregation.
The service took place at Covenant Mennonite Church, a small white, stuccoed building with a classic-looking steeple. Winkler is a religious and deeply divided town when it comes to 2SLGBTQ+ acceptance. Eighty-four per cent of the population identifies as Christian. Most of Winkler’s 19 churches teach that being gay is contrary to God’s design.
But not Covenant Mennonite Church. On Saturday morning, the sanctuary was packed for the town’s first “Rainbow Church” service organized by local church leaders. All 70 seats were taken and people were standing at the back.
“This has never happened in Winkler before,” said Jonathan Dyck, a Winkler native who now lives in Winnipeg and who is the author of Shelterbelts, a graphic novel about queer people in a fictional town much like Winkler.
During the service, people wearing rainbow cowboy hats, rainbow earrings, rainbow scarves and pink and blue trans pride buttons filed forward to accept cubes of gluten-free bread and tiny red Solo cups of grape juice.
The bread and juice are symbols of community, solidarity and the love of God for people of all genders and sexual orientations, explained Enns Rodine.
“Cheers,” said a man in a white ponytail and handlebar moustache wearing a rainbow-coloured neckerchief.
Later that day, a crowd of several hundred assembled on the grass in a downtown park in front of a stage draped with a banner that read: “Pride Belongs in the Pembina Valley.”
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Some people were wrapped in rainbow flags and trans flags. Others sat on wheelchairs decorated with garlands. Still others wore trucker caps and chest-length beards and hoodies with rainbow hearts.
“We are here to celebrate the 2SLGBTQ+ community and their allies,” said event organizer and Pembina Valley Pride president Pauline Emerson-Froebe. “We are part of the Pembina Valley community.”
Susy Rempel, a young woman with splash of purple in her hair, shared her story from the stage. Rempel identifies as aroace — shorthand for aromantic asexual. She doesn’t experience romantic or sexual attraction toward anyone. Rempel said that coming out lifted a huge weight from her shoulders. Freed from the pressure of finding a romantic partner, she was able to focus on loving herself and deepening her friendships and her relationships with her siblings.
“My heart started to feel fuller and I felt more loved,” she said.
Rempel started to weep and the crowd cheered her on.
Next, Sebastian Saunders spoke about growing up attending church in Winkler where he felt he had to hide his trans identity because God disapproved. “For almost 20 years of my life I tried being a perfect Christian girl,” Saunders said. “Standing here in front of you all today, I am none of those things. I describe myself as an imperfect, authentic, agnostic trans man.”
The crowd applauded. A light rain began to fall and iridescent bubbles from a bubble machine blew past the stage.
After the speeches, the crowd processed around the park. Along the way they encountered a series of protesters holding signs that said: “There are only two genders” and “God says marriage is between one man and woman.” Many of the protesters were from two local churches, Pembina Valley Baptist Church and Redeeming Grace Bible Church. “Love the sinner; hate the sin!” one of them shouted.
“Love the believer, hate the belief,” replied a Pride marcher in a yellow rain jacket.
Other members of the procession obstructed the dissenting signs with large rainbow banners.
Cass Ducharme came to the Pride event carrying a tousled Shorkie dog wearing a tiny t-shirt that said “Free Hugs.” Ducharme used to be a worship leader at a church in Winkler. One day she changed her Facebook status to “Love everybody” and added a rainbow flag. The pastor sent her an email saying she could no longer be on the worship team and she needed to meet with him for counselling.
Ducharme left the church. She found support among her queer friends and allies whom she says showed her what true community looks like.
Ducharme used to be on the board of Pembina Valley Pride. The organization held events in other towns, but hesitated to hold one in Winkler because they knew there would be opposition.
But every time they put out a survey asking where people wanted the next Pride, Winkler always topped the list.
“Walking over that hill and seeing so many people here — it feels like we’ve come full circle,” she says.
***
Josiah Neufeld is a writer in Winnipeg and the author of “The Temple at the End of the Universe.”
This story was produced in conjunction with Broadview, as part of a joint Religion in the News partnership covering issues of faith in Manitoba and nationally.
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