Winning the King Charles III Coronation Medal: A Reminder to Keep Going

A while back, I would have never guessed that my name and King Charles III would appear in the same sentence—unless we were talking about some elaborate drag persona I’d dreamed up. But here we are. I was recently awarded the King Charles III Coronation Medal, an honor given to Canadians who have made significant contributions to their communities. And while I usually associate medals with Olympians or war heroes, this one landed in my hands for something I hold just as close to my heart: advocacy for queer and gender-diverse communities, as well as my contributions to philanthropy.

Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of advocating for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights, inclusion, and belonging—in workplaces, in schools, in everyday conversations that weren’t always easy. I’ve seen what happens when people feel heard, seen, and valued, and I’ve also seen the damage that happens when they don’t.

I’ve worked with students who are just trying to exist as their authentic selves. I’ve spoken in rooms where people had never met an openly queer or nonbinary person before. I’ve had tough conversations with people who wanted to understand but didn’t know where to start. And I’ve been loud when it mattered—because sometimes being loud is the only option we have.

But I’ve also learned that advocacy isn’t just about making noise. It’s about listening, learning, and holding space for others. It’s about recognizing that the fight for equity, safety, and dignity isn’t just one person’s burden to carry—it’s something we all have a role in.

A Medal, But Not a Finish Line

This medal isn’t an ending. It’s not a sign that the work is done, or that I’ve done enough. If anything, it’s a reminder that there’s more to do, more people to support, more voices to uplift.

I accept it with gratitude, but also with the understanding that the real reward isn’t a piece of metal—it’s in the connections we make, the small wins we celebrate, and the hope we continue to build.

And so, the work continues.

FULL ACCEPTANCE SPEECH:

I am deeply grateful to my peers for this nomination and honored to be recognized by the community I love so much. 

And I have a few others things I need to say: 

While I acknowledge the monarchy’s historical significance, I also recognize its ongoing influence and the need for meaningful reconciliation.

My dear friend is here—Ozhaawashkozi Anung Kwe. Settlers may not have spirit guides, but as a Two Spirit person, she has done more than guide me. She has taught me so much about my relationship with the land I call home and has encouraged me to find personal meaning in how I acknowledge this place and its history.

This community—belonging to the Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe and governed by the Dish With One Spoon treaty—exists on stolen land. Not just the physical earth, but language, traditions, and culture, all taken, demonized and erased. Before my ancestors—your ancestors—came to Turtle Island, trans people were respected. Queer people were celebrated. Two Spirit people were looked to for their wisdom and guidance.

Being transgender is not a trend or a phase. 2SLGBTQIA+ people have been here for thousands of years—long before bathroom bills and bans on women’s sports. We are not new. What’s new is transphobia. What’s new is the ideology that says being different makes us less than.

“Land Back” is something we all need in this country. We need to restore respect, celebration, and love for the most marginalized in our communities. And I’m asking you all to join me in making Hamilton, Ontario, and Canada a safer place for all.

I want to thank the people already doing that work—the women in my community who I look up to, who inspire me every day:

• Medora Upple of the YWCA

• Evelyn Myrie of ACCA

• Katherine Kalinowski of Good Shepherd

• Debbie Logel-Butler of Cancer Assistance

• Brenda Ferguson of Today’s Family

• Victoria Long of Arts for All

• Astrid Hepner of An Instrument for Every Child

• Councillors Nrinder Nann and Tammy Hwang

• And forever MPP/MVP in my heart, Sarah Jama

These are just a few of the Hamiltonian women I am lucky enough to call friends— and they are the glue that holds this community together.

Grace Diffey! of HCF, Did you think I forgot about you? Of course you didn’t. Because you’re the only person I trusted enough to look over this speech (and edit it) - at 11pm last night. Thank you for your wisdom and friendship, constantly talking me off the ledge, and for keeping me as humble as I possibly can be with all the text messages you send, “Chris, you think about you more than anyone else thinks about you.” And that’s the only one of our texts I’ll mention tonight. Because, like we promised each other, it will always be between me, you, and the fence post. 

Steph Seagram. The first true friend I made in Hamilton. The way your brain works is one of my favorite things about this planet. Thank you for always reminding me to look up at the moon.

My family is here! Logan, my brother— my homie with an extra chromie! Thank you for coming into our lives and turning our family of four into a family of more—more understanding, more empathy, more love, and soooo many more laughs!

My brother Marc, who, although younger than me, is someone I truly look up to. Marc is a behavioral specialist working with disabled students in Essex County. He recently won the Educator Award, presented by the Council for Exceptional Children. While I’m loud and proud, Marc is gentle and humble, but still making a huge difference in the lives of everyone he works with. And I couldn’t be prouder of him.

Thank you to my nieces, Charlie Mae and Maggie June, for making our family complete. I do everything I do for you. I’m going to do my best to leave this place better than I found it. I promise.

My parents, Paul and Carol. What can I say? My mom’s thinking, “What won’t Chris say?” I am forever grateful for your love and support. One of my dad’s favorite jokes is, “You can pick your nose, you can pick your butt, but you can’t pick your family.” Even if I had that choice, I’d pick you both. Best parents a trans fem, non-binary, gender queer, questioning, pansexual kid could ask for. My mom is now googling pansexual on her phone cause she just learned about this new development along with all of you. It’s a spectrum, mom! We talked about this. I’m on a journey. 

Who am I forgetting? Hmmmm?

Oh—my husband, Jared! Jared, just like everyone else in this room, I often wonder just how you do it. Put up with me, that is. Not only does Jared have to deal with all the chaos I create, but he also has to coexist with my obsessive love for Hamilton. Many an afternoon, after hearing me screaming alone in the living room, he strolls downstairs, looks at me, and, with the calmest of demeanors, says, “boo, you gotta stop watching these Hamilton City Council meetings.” I love that you’re my family. Thank you for loving me.

Now, I want to say one more thing before I get kicked off the stage.

I was raised by two of the strongest women I have ever met—my grandmothers. My grandma Gilda told me, “If you don’t speak up when bad things happen, you’re just as responsible.” And my grandma Mac taught me that “sunlight is the best disinfectant.”

So everyone here tonight, I ask you as kindly as possible: Get. Off. The. Fence. Now is not the time for moral ambiguity. If you see injustice, don’t just speak up— shout so loud that no one mistakes who said it. And shine so bright that no one doubts exactly where you stand. 

Now remember, this June 11th is YWCA’s Walk a Mile. If you can’t walk, donate. If you can’t donate share. Gender based violence is an epidemic and we have the power to put and end it. I’ll see you there everyone!!! 

Smash the patriarchy!!!”