An Alien in a Peaceful World: My Experience of Joining the Rainbow Kings and Queens

Oladipupo Babatunde Abdullah, also known as Abdul, who publishes under Tunde Brian, is a Nigerian-born writer who is seeking asylum in Canada because of his sexual orientation as pansexual. Homosexuality is highly criminalized in Nigeria, with federal laws punishing same-sex sexual acts with up to 14 years in prison or, in some parts, death by stoning. The Rainbow Kings and Queens formed in the Diocese of Niagara to support 2SLGBTQI+ asylum seekers and refugees from countries in Africa with similar legislation. They meet monthly in Christ’s Church Cathedral, forming community and learning about life in Canada as part of the 2SLGBTQI+ community. Abdul was asked to write about his experience of joining the Rainbow King and Queens since moving to Canada in April 2026. At the time of writing, he was living in a Hamilton shelter.  

I had been reluctant, perhaps out of fear, to learn about this LGBTQ community of Africans whose lingua franca is unity and love: Rainbow Kings and Queens, RKQ. Persuaded and convinced, I painstakingly travelled with a compatriot some fifteen kilometres to Christ’s Church Cathedral for our first meeting in June.

Everyone was euphoric with the forthcoming Toronto Pride happening just 2 weeks later. Unbeknownst to this writer, preparation was underway to get every member of RKQ a unified, branded T-shirt for the event.

My encounter with Deirdre Pike is one of rather fortunate coincidence. She was a master at working with the large group, handing the matching T-shirts to everyone in the room according to their various orders and requests. One of the Rainbow Queens, having realized the shirt she got appeared bigger than her initial request, did not even need the minutest plea or patronage of this shepherd. She had it replaced instantly. Soon, nearly everyone in the room was clad in this rainbow-dyed T-shirt. RAINBOW KINGS AND QUEENS, the letters read boldly on this writer’s chest. Pike had gifted the writer a piece of the rainbow tie-dyed fabric, being a newcomer, a first-timer, and having had no prior knowledge of the preparation. An unprecedented but memorable gesture that will stay with me for a long time. Grinning from ear to ear, all the memories of that encounter were captured in still images.

The next encounter was just as bright, but this time our leader appeared near the train station. There was no fanfare in her arrival, yet her presence was enough to reassure everyone that the journey ahead would be one travelled together. She greeted familiar faces with warm embraces and welcomed new ones with the same sincerity. There were no strangers in her flock. Before long, we boarded the train bound for Toronto with Pike travelling alongside us fellow queers, sharing conversations, laughter, and quiet moments that made the distance seem shorter than it truly was.

Upon arriving at Union Station, another gesture, simple in appearance but profound in meaning, unfolded. Before the celebrations even began, Pike again acted like a shepherd, making sure everyone of us was fed. At Tim Hortons, she patiently asked each person for their own preferred order. There was no assumption that one meal suited all, nor was anyone overlooked. Each customized order was remembered and received with care. It was not merely breakfast or lunch; it was dignity served in a paper bag and a warm cup. A medium-sized hot chocolate and a plain croissant were enough to make my palate jump. To some, it may have appeared insignificant. To this writer, it was yet another expression of a leader who understood that people flourish when they know they matter.

Then came the walk into the city, where the pride colours filled the sky like a flock of lorikeets. Streets transformed into rivers of rainbow banners, music echoed from every direction, and thousands of people celebrated not simply an event but the freedom to exist without apology. The writer had seen crowds before, but never one united by such openness and freedom. There was laughter without restraint, affection without fear, and joy without permission.

This group of nearly two dozen was gently guided through the festivities, ensuring no one was left behind. Pike explained what many of the symbols represented, introduced familiar faces such as former Member of Provincial Parliament and the first Black and Queer woman, Jill Andrew, and made space for conversations that, perhaps unknowingly, were beginning to heal wounds that years of rejection had carved. For someone who had travelled across continents carrying invisible burdens, this was more than attendance at a festival. It was an awakening for this alien in a new, peaceful world.