
Roger-Luc Chayer (Image AI – Gay Globe)
The Village today no longer resembles the one from the 90s, when you could walk through it safely and feel truly proud of what the gay and lesbian community (as it was called then) had built. Starting from a simple commercial street in a modest neighborhood, Montreal’s Gay Village had become chic, trendy; it was the place to be seen. Crowds would gather in front of restaurants and dance clubs, and the area was impeccably clean.
One of the most colorful characters of the 90s was Monsieur Rosa. Almost everyone who frequented the Village at that time knew him and remembers him. He was a man in his forties, maybe fifties, with a round face and belly, who, night after night, tirelessly walked through the Village’s shops selling roses. Small, individually wrapped roses that didn’t always bloom, as they were fleeting, sometimes a bit withered.
Monsieur Rosa had an interesting story. He wasn’t born in Canada and sold his roses to support his family. At first, he didn’t speak any French and did his best to communicate. But I remember that over time, he managed to form sentences in excellent French and understood more and more of what people said to him. That’s how he would sometimes take the time to chat with us, standing next to our table at the restaurant. He loved talking about his past, the reasons why he sold his roses, and his smile was unforgettable.
We were at the dawn of gay liberation, with new laws that protected us, allowed us to unite civilly, recognized our right to adoption, and to the sharing of the surviving spouse’s pension from the Régie des rentes du Québec.
Monsieur Rosa, with his roses, was riding the romantic wave of this reality.
While preparing this tribute article for a man who had made the Gay Village of that era a little romantic paradise for lovers, I learned, through a few correspondents, that Monsieur Rosa had passed away. He left an indelible mark on our collective history, and I am grateful to him for that.