The year was 2003. I had recently left my job as “Towel Boy / Promotions” for Down Under Baths and was uncertain what my future would look like. My friend Michael Brown and I started talking about a queer magazine. He is an amazingly talented artist and graphic designer who was also at loose ends career-wise. At the time, Edmonton had Times.10 Magazine, which had been in production for a decade. I’d written for it, on and off, since moving to Edmonton a few years earlier. But we weren’t enjoying it anymore. It seemed to be focussing more and more on US politics in the days of the War on Terror, and as it always had, a focus on HIV/AIDS news and developments.

Looking back, it’s the naïve and arrogant privilege of youth that seemed to drive my decisions. Wanting something colourful and celebratory, something that resounded with queer joy rather than simply being another chronicle of fear, may have been a noble enough ambition on its own, but there would have been other ways to go about it rather than what unfolded. In less than two years, Edmonton would go from one magazine, to two, to none, and I’m acutely aware of my role in that.

Bar politics derailed us from Issue One. It may be hard for many of you to imagine, in this time of one gay bar, but at the time, Edmonton had many, and they didn’t always get along. In fact, there was often quite a bit of animosity between them. Buddys and Woodys immediately said yes to advertising, this in spite of the fact that they were the places I had NOT worked, but the nature of the community at the time meant that the second they bought ads, other businesses like Down Under, Boots, and The Roost wouldn’t. That blow to our financial plan was big enough that we probably should have bailed right then, but we truly did believe we were creating something great for Edmonton – and I firmly believed everyone else would see it soon.

Pride in what we accomplished now is muted by the awareness of the cost. Not just in the money our boyfriends invested in our future without ever being paid back, but in a community now voiceless. Hindsight cannot help but wonder what may have happened had we chosen a different path, maybe one of collaboration rather than competition, but time moves only forward. And honestly, there was no unity of vision that would have allowed us to work together. But I look back now and shake my head at the ignorance and arrogance of youth. Creating a legacy doesn’t always require ownership or control. Sometimes, it’s about compromise or even surrender.