(If you click through, you can read Dr. Hogans own story on his page.)
When the Parade Stops, the Silence Speaks Louder by Richard Hogan, MD, PhD(2), DBA
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Narrative Word Count: 289
Bio: Richard Francis Hogan is a Canadian writer, Poet and advocate on several levels based in Ottawa. His work explores hope, resilience, identity, faith, and the quiet power of public spaces.
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https://richardhogan1.substack.com
Cover Letter for Submission
Subject: Op-Ed Submission: When the Parade Stops, the Silence Speaks Louder
Dear Editor,
I am submitting the attached op-ed for consideration in the Ottawa Citizen. It reflects on the recent cancellation of the Ottawa Gay Pride Parade and the deeper cultural and spiritual implications of that absence. As a longtime resident and advocate for inclusive public spaces, I believe this piece speaks to a moment of reflection for our city and its commitment to visibility, dignity, and belonging. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Richard Hogan
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Full Narrative
When the Parade Stops, the Silence Speaks Louder
By Richard Francis Hogan
The cancellation of the Ottawa Gay Pride Parade due to protests is more than a logistical decision. It is a cultural silence, a civic absence, a spiritual pause that demands reflection.
For decades, Pride has been more than a celebration. It has been a procession of courage, a public hymn of identity, a communal act of love. It has been where the marginalized found visibility, where joy became resistance, and where the city itself remembered its promise to all its people.
To cancel such a gathering is not merely to postpone an event. It is to interrupt a ritual of belonging.
As a Christian, I believe in the sacredness of every human soul. As a Buddhist, I recognize the impermanence of all things—but also the importance of showing up, again and again, with compassion. And as someone with Irish blood, I know that humor and heartache often walk hand in hand. We laugh because we’ve cried. We march because we’ve been still for too long.
This year, there will be no rainbow flags waving down Bank Street. No music echoing through Centretown. No cheers from sidewalks lined with families, allies, and elders who remember when Pride was a protest, not a party.
But let us not confuse absence with apathy.
Let us write, speak, gather, and remember. Let us honor those who came before, and those who still wait to be seen. Let us make sure that when the parade returns, it does so not just with glitter—but with grit.
Because Pride is not a date on the calendar. It is a declaration of dignity.
And dignity, like love, does not disappear. It waits. It endures. It marches on.
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