Remembering Penny Lamy, Toronto’s Mary Poppins

The 519 is saddened by the recent passing of Penny Lamy. A true force of compassion and strength, Penny served as The 519’s program director in the early 1980s. For our 50th anniversary, we’re remembering those who came before us and helped shape The 519, especially Penny.

Penny was born on October 1, 1954, the same month Hurricane Hazel swept through the city. It was a symbolic and fitting beginning for Penny whose life would be defined by resilience and resolve. She dedicated her life to fighting injustice and fostering inclusive and equitable spaces at a time when Toronto was far more hostile for many marginalized people, including 2SLGBTQ+ communities.

The April 21, 1984 edition of the Body Politic, featuring an interview with Penny.

Following a police raid on the Back Door Bathhouse on April 20, 1983, Penny and her daughters Laura and Brigitte joined the protests against police brutality. In a conversation with Toronto writer and editor Rick Archbold for the Body Politic (cover of issue pictured above), Penny recounted how many of her friends were against her decision to protest.

“My children and I are close to a lot of people who are gay. And I think we have to change things.” Penny said. There was no doubt or question.

Little Laura — who hated reading and writing at the time — also wrote a letter to the judges about what she saw on the streets, and how she thought she could trust the police, but now found it hard to do so.

Penny worked at The 519 during pivotal moments in Toronto’s queer history, including the aftermath of the bathhouse raids, the evolution of Pride on Church Street, and the early years of the HIV/AIDS crisis. She helped expand programs and services to better reflect and serve the diversity of our communities.

Penny with one of her kids at Toronto’s 1983 Pride celebrations. Pic: OnTheBookshelves.com

Elevating marginalized and vulnerable voices and advocating for their safety was something Penny practiced every day.

“If I’m riding on the TTC, and I see young boys fooling around and calling each other f****t, well, I don’t care who I’m with or where it is, I’ll always say, ‘Excuse me, could you not say that? There could be a lot of people sitting on this bus who wouldn’t be too happy hearing you say that. Because men loving men, and women loving women, is okay.’ And I’ve never yet had a negative response,” Penny said to Rick.

After moving on from The 519, she continued advocating for residents of Toronto’s downtown east and used her leadership to champion issues of poverty, affordable housing, accessibility, mental health, harm reduction, and community wellbeing.

Penny won’t just be remembered for making a difference, but also for her love for simple things: an ice-cold Pepsi, a cigarette shared with friends, cheering on the Raptors and Blue Jays, and good food, especially a slice of cake. She lived in the moment and recognized the importance of making everyone feel like they belonged.

A few weeks before her passing, Penny visited The 519 with some of her children for a media interview. Little did we know that would be the last time we’d see her. Perhaps it was her way of coming by to say her goodbye to The 519, a place she held close to her heart.

In his article, Rick likened Penny to a full-time Mary Poppins, lightening the load of those around her. “When I first got to know Penny, she seemed too good to be true. Now that I know her better, I’ve begun to understand the depth of her rapport with people. She needed the gay people who formed her community as much as they needed her,” he wrote.

That spirit of care and generosity is the legacy Penny leaves behind.

Rest easy, Penny. We hope there’s ice-cold Pepsi in heaven!

In lieu of flowers, Penny’s family has invited those wishing to honour her memory to consider making a donation to The 519.
Click here to make a donation in honour of Penny.

Note: Adapted from the Body Politic article and Penny’s obituary. Quotes have been shortened for brevity, with their original meaning preserved.