In the heart of downtown Toronto, nestled between the joyful sounds of a splash pad and the playful energy of a dog park, lies a quiet semicircle of concrete pillars. Each pillar bears the engraved names of hundreds, a poignant testament to a devastating loss. Yet, many who pass by remain unaware of its solemn purpose – it’s one of Canada’s largest AIDS memorials, slowly fading from public consciousness.
David, a member of Toronto’s HIV-positive community, feels this loss acutely. He describes a growing disconnect, a sense that the memorial is becoming invisible. “It doesn’t feel like a memorial to those who don’t know its story,” he explains, choosing to share his first name only to protect his privacy. He’s now leading a passionate, grassroots effort to restore its dignity and ensure its message endures.
The city is planning a redesign of Barbara Hall Park, but David fears the proposed plans will further diminish the memorial’s prominence. He argues the current designs lack meaningful input from those most affected by the epidemic and fail to honor the weight of the lives remembered there. It needs, he insists, to feel like a sacred space, a place of profound importance.
Driven by this concern, David, with pro bono design work from Norm Li, conceived “Echoes” – a plan to expand and enhance the memorial. This isn’t simply about aesthetics; it’s about reclaiming a space and amplifying a story that risks being forgotten. Construction for the park redesign is projected for 2030, making this a critical moment for change.
Established in 1988 and made permanent in 1993, the memorial has continuously added names of Canadians lost to AIDS, offering a lasting record of a national tragedy. But time and neglect have taken their toll. David remembers a time when rose bushes flourished around the pillars, creating a lush, beautiful sanctuary. Now, it’s frequently vandalized and lacks the protective buffer it once had.
The city held consultations in 2023, including feedback from people living with HIV, with suggestions for increased prominence and historical context. However, when the proposed designs were released, disappointment rippled through the community. Breklyn Bertozzi, Executive Director of the Canadian AIDS Society, who also lives with HIV, calls the redesign “very lacking,” and describes it as an “insult to the meaning of this space.”
The proposed plans, David explains, treat the memorial as an afterthought, failing to distinguish it from the surrounding parkland. Crucially, they lack any elements to educate visitors about the history of the HIV epidemic and the resilience of the community it impacted. It’s as if the memorial is being reduced to a mere art installation, stripped of its emotional and historical power.
“Echoes” offers a different vision. It proposes a forested grove to create a sense of separation and reverence, along with new pillars displaying biographies of community members and panels detailing the epidemic’s impact. The adjacent trans memorial would also receive dedicated enhancements, shaped by input from the transgender community. This design has already garnered endorsements from numerous HIV and AIDS organizations across Ontario and Canada.
David believes that without a clear explanation of its purpose, the memorial risks further decline and eventual removal. “I’m hoping that when people come here, they see a beautiful space that they want to engage with,” he says. He urges the city to adopt “Echoes” as the foundation for the redesign, and has been invited to present his vision to an advisory committee.
Ed Jackson, a co-founder of the AIDS Committee of Toronto, echoes this sentiment, calling the city’s plans a “half-effort.” He supports “Echoes” because it acknowledges the ongoing impact of AIDS and HIV, and would create a “quiet, contemplative area” for remembrance and reflection – a space to honor both resistance and survival.
For Jade Elektra, an HIV activist and ambassador for the Canadian Foundation for AIDS Research, the memorial holds a deeply personal significance. She was one of the first drag queens to perform there during the annual AIDS vigil in 2019. She sees the “Echoes” project as a vital opportunity to ensure the memorial’s story is never forgotten, and hopes her own name will one day be added to its pillars.
City officials have acknowledged the “Echoes” proposal, stating they are “exploring elements” that can be incorporated into the existing plan, while prioritizing accessibility, maintenance, and safety. They emphasize their commitment to ensuring the memorial “remains legible, recognizable and respected,” and plan further consultations this summer.
David named the project “Echoes” to capture the fading memories of those lost to AIDS – individuals, families, and friendships that have slipped from collective remembrance. “There are some people in that memorial for whom there’s probably not a single person alive today that remembers them,” he says. “Their echo is getting more and more distant. The goal of this is to be a resonance chamber to amplify that echo again.”
For Elektra, the memorial represents more than just a physical location; it’s a roadmap of progress, a testament to how far the community has come. It’s a place to remember, to honor, and to ensure that those who came before are never truly gone.
