Anti-LGBTQ+ hatred online does not represent all New Brunswickers

Since joining the New Brunswick Refugee Clinic, I’ve been sharing some personal reflections about refugees, newcomers and what it means to build a life and feel that you belong in New Brunswick.

I’ve written about some of my own experiences as a newcomer, about what I’ve learned from working with refugee claimants, and about the misconceptions and biases that people seeking protection can encounter here.

After this past weekend, I feel like I have another reflection to add to that series.

I deeply believe that every person deserves to be treated with dignity, respect and compassion, regardless of who they are or who they love. These are values that have always been very close to my heart, shaped in large part by the many different people I’ve had the privilege of meeting, working with and calling friends over the years.

That is why I believe it is important to actively show support for the LGBTQ+ community, including by participating in Pride.

For years, I’ve advocated for the Ukrainian community to be present at Pride events. And now, as executive director of the New Brunswick Refugee Clinic, I feel that responsibility even more strongly.

Some of the people we serve are seeking refugee protection in Canada because they fear persecution due to their sexual orientation or gender identity. In 2026, there are still places in the world where being LGBTQ+ can mean imprisonment, violence, or even death.

For someone who has fled that reality and come to Canada seeking safety, I believe it matters to see their community standing beside them.

It matters to know: You belong here. You are safe here. You do not have to hide who you are here.

That is why I was genuinely excited to march in the Pride Parade last Saturday alongside our clients, partners, board members and colleagues. It was a joyful and meaningful day, and I was proud to be there.

But I wasn’t prepared for what happened afterwards.

When I shared a video from our participation on the Refugee Clinic’s page, it seemed to open the floodgates. I encountered an amount of hateful commentary directed at Pride, LGBTQ+ people, refugees and our organization that honestly shocked me.

I spent a significant part of my weekend reporting comments, hiding or deleting them, and blocking people. I looked at some of the profiles because I was genuinely trying to understand who was behind them. Were they bots? Paid trolls? Something else?

They weren’t.

Many appeared to be ordinary people living right here in New Brunswick, adults with families, jobs, communities and lives — using their personal accounts to come to an organization’s page and openly express hatred toward a group of people they may not even know.

And, honestly, that was difficult for me to process. I’ve always considered New Brunswick a place where people look out for one another, where communities can come together, and where people can feel that they belong.

Maybe that’s also why it hit me so hard.

I recognize that I’ve been privileged in many ways. As a newcomer, I have experienced barriers and challenges, arriving without a local network or Canadian experience. But I have never had to fear being mistreated, attacked or denied safety because of whom I love or because of my identity.

And after seeing some of the comments this weekend, I found myself thinking about the people who do live with that fear, the people who have already had to leave their homes because of who they are, the people who arrive here hoping that Canada will be different, the people who need to know that they are not alone.

I wish I could tell every one of them that what I saw online this weekend does not represent everyone in New Brunswick. Because I know so many people here who are kind, welcoming, open-minded and genuinely committed to building inclusive communities.

Still, I would be lying if I said the experience didn’t take a bit of a mental toll on me. So I’m sharing this not to start an argument, and not because I think I have all the answers.

I’m curious about my friends and network: have you ever experienced something similar? How do you deal with the hate when it comes your way? How do you keep it from taking up too much space in your head?

And perhaps most importantly – how do we keep making sure that the people who need to hear it most know: You belong here. You are welcome here. You are safe here.

Nataliia Haidash is the Executive Director of the New Brunswick Refugee Clinic, and a passionate leader dedicated to supporting newcomers and vulnerable communities.