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Thank you. This is a true honour. Thank you very much.

Bharat, thank you for your kind words, and for your leadership.

And Helen, thank you for your incredible work with EGALE, and your role on the LGBTQ2 Apology Advisory Council.

And finally, thank you to Elder Blu Waters for the land acknowledgement earlier on in the program.

When I think back on being a kid, growing up with a Prime Minister as my dad, I remember a few things. Most memories are of the day to day – car rides with the RCMP, or visiting my dad at work.

But in terms of his legacy, the events and decisions written about in the history books, I don’t remember as much.

Rarely do we realize the big moments for what they are as they’re happening. Hindsight, most often, gives us that perspective – a certain gravity that’s only afforded through distance.

But there is one moment, one historical event, that I remember quite vividly. It was April 17, 1982. It was cold and grey, and I sat, at ten years old, on Parliament Hill. And I watched as my dad and some lady I recognized as being very famous and very important patriated Canada’s Constitution.

At the time, I had no idea what that meant, but I still knew it was a big deal. Later, I’d realize just how big a deal it was.

That day, Canada took a giant step forward, evolving into a nation of entrenched fundamental rights – a nation that vowed to recognize all people as equal under the law.

The execution of that promise has been imperfect, yes. But over time, we’ve gotten better at peaceful co-existence, guided by the foundational principles of compassion, equality, and dignity for all.

I often think of that afternoon now that I’m much older, and in the same position my father was in all those years ago. And I think about how my kids will reflect on this experience – having their dad as Prime Minister, and living a pretty unconventional life.

Xavier, Ella-Grace, and Hadrien – What will they remember of this exciting era?

Well, I think, and I hope, that they will remember November 28, 2017. It was on that day that I humbly stood in our Parliament and delivered a long overdue apology to Canada’s LGBTQ2 communities.

The stories told in that speech are familiar to many of you, but left others aghast.

Thrown in jail for being gay? Not in Canada.

Losing your job for being trans? Never.

Rejected and shamed for your two-spirit identity? No way.

Outed in the local paper? Not in this country, an oasis of acceptance and progressivism.

And yet… that is a very dark, very true chapter of Canadian history. Recent Canadian history, I might add.

This was the kind of discrimination suffered by the queer community for decades.

So this apology, and our vow to never repeat the devastating mistakes of the past – well, we knew it would be an important moment for many people. A bittersweet moment of recognition. A moment that would, hopefully, begin a long journey toward healing.

And that’s why, that November morning, I decided that my kids wouldn’t be going to school that day.

They were coming to work with dad.

The decision for them to be there in the House of Commons, sitting in the Gallery surrounded by lifelong advocates, and looking down at me while survivors around them openly wept… it wasn’t planned. But I woke up that morning and it hit me: “Today’s going to be a big day.”

And so they came.

And they watched their dad stand on the floor of the House of Commons, surrounded by colleagues, and promise that we, as a nation, would do better.

It was an incredible day that I will never forget. And I am so humbled to have been a small part of this larger cultural moment.

I have to thank members of the We Demand an Apology Network, the LGBTQ2 Apology Advisory Council, and the Just Society Committee for Egale for helping us do this properly.

But perhaps even more deserving of our gratitude are the grassroots warriors – people who have dedicated their careers, and in many cases, their lives, to fighting for LGBTQ2 justice, in Canada and around the world.

This apology, and the many important gay rights victories of decades past, wouldn’t have happened without your efforts and conviction. So thank you.

Friends, I tell you this story because I hope that, in 30 years time, when my kids reflect back on their childhood, this memory stands out.

And much like my recollection of my dad sitting alongside the Queen, they will know that what happened on that November day was an important moment for all Canadians.

All societies can – and should – be judged based on how they defend the rights of minorities. Protection, respect, and support for LGBTQ2 Canadians must be entrenched – not conditional, but instead, foundational.

This is a point that I bring up all the time at international summits, and in public and private meetings with foreign leaders.

Sometimes, I’m forcing a conversation that makes people uncomfortable. But you know what? I don’t really care, because if asking about gay rights in your country makes you uneasy, it means you’re not doing a good enough job. It means you need to do better.

Last summer, I marched in Halifax Pride for the first time. And it was incredible. The streets were brimming with love and laughter.

But it hadn’t always been that way.

I was told that at the first Halifax Pride, people wore bags over their heads as they marched – needing to be seen, desperately wanting to be counted, but not yet ready to be named.

We’ve come a long way as a country, and we should be proud of where we are today. Thanks to many of the folks in this room, we’ve achieved some big things together recently.

We finally amended our human rights legislation to protect trans Canadians from discrimination. We launched a federal Strategy to Prevent and Address Gender-Based Violence. And we will expunge the criminal records of those convicted of same-sex offences.

These are big, important steps forward, and I thank all of you for your work in getting us here.

And still… we cannot become complacent.

Queer youth homelessness, inadequate support for folks who are intersex, disproportionate violence suffered by the trans community, discrimination in blood and organ donation, and the intersectional marginalization of queer people of colour – these are among the next frontiers of this movement.

And I want to achieve real, sustained progress on these things by working with you. By taking my cues from your leadership, and your expertise, and delivering the kind of change that will impact so many.

My friends, there are many uncertainties in life. But know this for sure: I am on your side. I will fight for you, and with you. Our entire government is committed to full equality for the queer community. You have my word on that.

I want my kids to grow up in a world where people’s differences are celebrated and embraced. Where career aspirations aren’t hampered by gender identity or expression. Where families are diverse and varied, and all the more beautiful for it.

In fact, that’s what I want for all of us – more acceptance, more inclusivity, more love. And we will get there — I am so, so hopeful of that.

Thank you very much my friends.