Kurl: Sorry, Maxime Bernier, I'm not part of a diversity 'cult'

There’s a photograph in a small gold frame nestled in a large wall unit at my parents’ house. In it, two people stand. There’s a formal distance between them, yet the smiles, one moustachioed, one toothy, show warmth. The colours are faded. But you can still make out the scarlet of a Mountie’s serge and the pink of a little girl’s lengha.
The subjects of the photo are a real-life RCMP officer – I can’t remember his name – and me, seven years old. I