It's pretty cool to be Canadian—this year marks the 40th anniversary of the decriminalization of homosexuality and the fifth anniversary of same-sex marriage. We've still got battles to fight (especially in Alberta) but generally, rights for gays, lesbians, bisexual and trans people are on the up and up. Instead of resting on its laurels, donning a shiny outfit and dancing all night long, the Pride Toronto committee is taking the fight worldwide—because there are lots of countries, big and small, where LGBT people are still very much at risk.

For its 29th year, Pride Toronto is zeroing in on Global Human Rights for Queers. It's fitting that the parade grand marshal is none other than activist and lawyer El-Farouk Khaki. Having spent much of his career helping homos from other countries enter Canada as refugees, Khaki is also a founder of Salaam Queer Muslim Community. I sat down with him for a pre-Pride chat. 

How did Salaam Queer Muslim Community come about?

I started it in 1991. I was born in Tanzania and lived in England, Vancouver and Ottawa. When I came to Toronto in 1989, I had never known or associated with another person who identified as Muslim as well as identifying as GLBT. Toronto has a larger Muslim population, and I soon got the sense that I was not the only one. Many people I met said they had connected with people as Muslim or as queer, but not as both. I wanted to bring people together to try and end that schizophrenia. 

We originally called it Salaam Society for Supporting Lesbian and Gay Muslims. 'Bi' and 'trans' were not in the lingo at the time. Soon, we had almost 100 people on our contact list. People would come from New York to our meetings, we had contacts all through the U.S. and Canada. 

Although people loved the group, no one wanted to take responsibility. People were afraid of their privacy and security, no one wanted to be outed. I had written an article for the Varsity at U of T and it received a nasty threat that was signed by "four cells of Islamic jihad." I thought, well, I can't get others involved, and one person doesn't a movement make. So, I closed it in 1993.

But, it had planted some seeds and got some coverage. One of the seeds was with an American named Faisal Alam, who then started Al-Fatiha, a gay Muslim organization in the United States. He was posting all over the internet and eventually had a conference in New York City. Some people from Toronto went to the conference, and came back to form a chapter of Al-Fatiha in Toronto. Eventually we renamed it Salaam Queer Muslim Community, to have a connection to the original group.

What types of activities does Salaam organize?

We have a monthly general meeting and a support group with a social worker, where people can talk about reconciling their identity or really, anything they want. 

For the past seven years we've held an ifthar at Ramadan—that's the evening meal to break the fast. Our ifthar is traditionally half Muslim and half people from the larger queer community. There are increasing numbers of straight Muslims as well. Last year we had 200 people.

I think there's a perception that of all the "God as father" religions, Islam is the least open to gays and lesbians. Do you think that's true?

I don't know—is Reverend Phelps open to sexual diversity? Are Mormons open to sexual diversity? There are many Christian and Jewish streams that are not open at all. Historically, Islam is more open to sexual diversity. It gets complicated, because using the naming "gay and lesbian" is very recent in human history.

Much of the Muslim world is suffering from colonialism, poverty and non-democratic governments. That's not an excuse for homophobia or misogyny. It's just that those conditions are reflective of larger social and political concerns as well. 

Is it easy being gay and Muslim? No, it's not. It's difficult for all people of faith from the Abrahamic traditions. I would venture that in the context of Islam, this current state of conservatism is a mere blip in the historical continuity. People are quick to stereotype and generalize. 

That's an option we all have, to choose one identity over the other. But a Muslim identity can also be a family identity, a historical identity. It's definitely a political identity after 9/11, when people from a Muslim background or a majority Muslim country had that identity thrust on them. Surely we should be identified the way that we choose for ourselves.

My relationship to Islam has always been important to me. When I started to become sexually aware, it was a great source of psychological and emotional pain for me. Why should I have to choose? Yes, some people choose one identity or the other, but if it's not a free and open choice, it's not a real choice. If both identities are important, why choose?

I guess the answer to that would be, because some say the religion is inherently prejudiced. But obviously you don't think so. 

No, I don't think so. I am Muslim because I love the notion of a divine creative force, a compassionate, all embracing God. The theory in the Qu'ran is that all humanity is one, not racialized, not gendered. I like the notion that God is sending messengers out all the time, 124, 000 messengers spreading divine intervention and divine revelation, not confined to one group of people or one geographic region. It permeates all of creation. That's the Islam I grew up with.